


11 Drinks

by auselysium



Category: Emmerdale, robron
Genre: AU, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auselysium/pseuds/auselysium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different telling of Aaron and Robert's story, told one drink at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	11 Drinks

**Author's Note:**

> This starts right before their first kiss, stays true to the show through their breakup after the wedding but then goes AU from there.

 

_ Coffee _

“So...mates?”

Aaron looks down at Robert’s offered hand, the two cups of coffee he’d brought as a peace offering are perched carefully in the other.  His hair is blowing against the low December clouds overhead. His black leather jacket is tight against his jaw.

Even going up against Aaron’s standoffish attitude, Robert seems entirely earnest in his hope they can start again.  Or at least as earnest as Robert Sugden can ever be.  Aaron would be a fool to not make some correlation between Chrissie’s visit earlier that afternoon and this proffered chance to be friends.  And Aaron is no fool.

Being even remotely near her orbit has Robert sweating that he’ll slip something about the robbery.

“I’ll think about it,” Aaron says, happy to let him sweat a little more.  He turns into the office, even though he’d be a liar if part of him didn’t desperately want to take that hand and perhaps even more.  He has eyes.  He can appreciate a fit bloke when he sees one.  And he certainly isn’t blind to the way Robert looks at him.

Robert leaves the coffee anyway, it’s smell lingering long after the scent of Robert’s cologne fades away.

A few evenings later, Aaron’s eyes fall on that same red paper cup again sat amongst old work orders and parts catalogues.  This time Robert’s cologne lingers not in the air but on Aaron’s skin along with the feel of Robert’s body so recently pressed against his own.

Aaron throws the coffee away, it’s contents having gone cold ages ago.

_ Beer _

There are 4 empty bottles on the table but only one is his. As a result, Aaron’s not feeling the least bit buzzed only miffed by ridiculousness of the situation.

“That’s 45.  45 minutes you’ve not said one word.”

Robert scoffs at his statement, making rude jokes about the atmosphere instead of opening up about  what had him so bothered that he was willing to get in Aaron’s car and be taken “anywhere”. Once he finally starts talking though, Aaron listens with an honest ear.  That is until Robert starts throwing the low punches.  

“Where did you get them scars then, an unfortunate yachting accident?”

“Listen,” Aaron growls, the bottles of beer clanging against each other on the table.  “Unless you want a slap, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

Robert looks almost stunned by Aaron’s reaction but then he smirks.  “We’re not touchy at all are we?”

“You don’t know the first thing about them.”

“And you don’t know the first thing about me!  I mean look where you brought me,”  Robert retaliates back, voice raised.  Then through clenched teeth, as if even saying the words themselves are a sin,  “A gay bar.”

A few more hurled insults and Robert leaves, even more angry than when they had arrived and Aaron can’t help but be baffled by how far back in the closet Robert has himself buried.

It wasn’t so long ago that Aaron too would have felt similar disgust at being in such a place.  But Robert doesn’t feel the same destructive self-loathing Aaron had.  He seems perfectly fine to like what he likes while continuing to claim his heterosexuality.  

But Aaron knows what hes like when they are together.  What parts of his body Robert’s fingers and lips search for, what sounds come from between his own lips when Aaron finds those same places on him.  No straight man could touch those places with such practice.  With such heavy, insatiable need.

_Wine_

Business mixes with pleasure, a volatile combination.  Especially when the two of them are involved.

“Interesting choice in venue,” Aaron says standing. “You do all your business meetings here?”

“Well, it depends on the business.”

Robert gives him that same smile he had the day before when, dressed in his wine-red suit, he’d worn his regret and humility along with his well-cut trousers.  With a look like that was it any wonder they had found themselves at the base of his stairs, kissing like fools, ready to peel those dapper suits off each other like children with candy only to be denied their sweet satisfaction by Katie’s abrupt intrusion?

But this time, Aaron has the willpower to stop his advances.  If at least for the present moment.

“What have I done now?”  Robert asks, his voice lacking any sort of attitude that he might be entitled to.  All it does is highlight this strange dichotomy of easy sincerity with Aaron and even easier lies with the rest of the world that Aaron simply cannot understand.  

Just when Aaron thinks he has Robert all sorted, he manages to surprise him.  Apologizing to Andy before the wedding (even though that still ended in disaster).  Following up with Adam to call it quits on the loan.

 _I’m not messing you about_ , he’d said before their very first kiss.  And maybe, just maybe, he’d actually meant it.  Maybe the forcefield of lies he puts up around himself isn’t meant to deflect Aaron away, only everyone else.  

Aaron had decided that morning to give Robert’s investment a chance.  Who else was going to give them the startup money, afterall?

“So you’ve changed your mind?”

“I’ve changed my opinion.  There’s a difference.”

They sign their business deal with kisses.  With jackets shoved over shoulders.  With bodies pressed back against the hay.  

Later that night, Aaron sits at the pub, trying to pay attention to what Chas is saying but his eyes and attention continue to drift over to Chrissy, sitting alone, nursing her white wine.  Her engagement ring refracts the light of the Christmas tree behind her like some flashing warning sign to Aaron.  Reminding him never to let his guard down.  To never get too comfortable.

After all, it could be any moment that he ends up on the wrong side of Robert’s lies.

_ Tea _

 

Robert replaces the kettle back on the counter with a frustrated thud.

“Don’t be like that.”  

Aaron merely continues to brood, sitting, arms crossed like some petulant child.  But he’s hurting, worried about Cain, so of course he is pushing people away and shutting himself off.  It’s what he does.

But when Robert sits, placing two cups of tea on the table beside them and offers up a story about Chrissie’s aunt and her recovery from her aneurysm, Aaron leans forward, asking for more details with a gentleness Robert has never seen before.

Certainly he’s seen Aaron’s body, lax and languid in the midst of one of their trysts.  Vulnerable and willing under his fingertips.  He’s seen glimpses of this man - the one who cares perhaps too much - when their eyes had met, locked together in that moment, as their bodies had moved in perfect synchronicity, joining together the way true lovers do for the first time on the first day of the new year.    

Yet seeing it now, in the unforgiving fluorescent light of Robert’s step mum’s kitchen accompanied by that crack in Aaron’s voice and the wetness in his eyes, it makes something in Robert catch.  Makes some part of him reach out to Aaron and pull him into his arms with a soft, “Hey, come here.”

He can feel Aaron’s confusion even as he continues to hold on.  After all it was only a week before that he’d demanded they go back to being strangers.  But as Robert offers further assurances, whispered into his ear, Aaron’s hands find the fabric at Robert’s shoulders and he relaxes into the embrace.

After a while Robert pulls back, his coming to rest at Aaron’s hips for a moment.  

“Want to finish your tea?  England’s solution to all problems,”  He says grinning.  Aaron nods, joining him at the table.

They sit, sipping tea, talking about the business and about nothing at all.  Almost as if they were mates.  Almost as if they were more than just sex to each other.

Almost.

_Champagne_

__

Robert tries to focus:

_Keep it together._

_Tell Chrissie she looks beautiful in her dress._

_Smile._

_Stop looking at Aaron._

That man’s love confession had been the least dramatic thing to happen to him that day, lost amongst the betrayal, the blackmail and violence to follow.   

As he teeters dangerously on the edge, people keep offering him glasses of champagne.  It is  his wedding after all.  But there is no alcohol in the world strong enough for this and he’s in no mood to celebrate.  Instead, its sparkling bubbles look as dull and lifeless as Katie’s broken body, the brut wine as flat on his tongue as his wife’s kisses.

When the time comes, it’s easy to be swept up in the role of concerned brother

“She could have been there for hours before you got there.  You’re a good bloke.  You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Every bolstering word he gives Andy, is said once for his brother and once for himself.  If only he believed it as much as Andy seems to.

When he tries the same self-convincing lies with Aaron they seem to miss their mark.  His dishonestly is written all over his face when looked at with Aaron’s knowing eyes.

“You better not be making a mug of me,” Aaron says back in garage where it had all started and where it seemed it would continue, even as Aaron bats away Robert’s advances.  

“You’re the last person I’d to that to.  I need you.”  

And that, at least, is true.

_Pint_

They are finished.  Well and properly finished.  Not just telling Chas that they weren’t seeing each other anymore to keep her off their case.  But actually over.

“And us packing it in? That’s going to change what, exactly?”  Robert’s eyes narrow at Aaron.

“Well, I might be able to live with myself for a start. Because right now I’m struggling.”

Later that night, sat at the back of pub, away from the gathering Friday night crowd, Aaron stares at the foam left on the side of his pint glass.  He remembers how Robert’s demeanor had changed when he spoke of the night at the quarry.  

“Cause the last few weeks have been enough to mess with anyone’s head.”

Aaron had resented that gentle understanding.  That tacet offer of pretty much exactly what he needed - a shoulder to lean on, an ear to bend - but not from him.  Not from someone so desperate to keep hiding the truth.  From someone seemingly immune to all the collateral damage.

Aaron gets up from the table, to get another round in or to simply pack it in for the night, he’s not sure.  His hand drops to his quad and he rubs at the muscle.  His legs, aching and quivering from the fifteen miles he’d done earlier that day, barely hold him up.  The pain is real, smarting all the way from his calf to his glutes, but it’s not nearly enough to mask the pain he’s trying to cover.  

And not enough to stop him from doing another fifteen miles the next day.

_Sports Drink_

__

It’s not like he doesn’t notice.  After all, when you’ve spent nearly three months desperately seeking the sight of someone every chance you can, you can’t just turn that habit off like a switch.  This is true for everyone, even Robert who has his “perfect little life” to go back to.  

So of course he sees Aaron falling apart.  Coming into the pub sweat soaked and haggard, barely acknowledging Chas’s nagging words to eat.  Robert doesn’t need a little fireside chat with Paddy to clue him into what’s going on.

Nevertheless, he finds himself storming into the cabin at the scrap yard the next day, not giving any thought to whether Aaron would be there on his own, but grateful when he is.

“What the hell, Robert!”  Aaron shouts when he sees the intruder, nearly knocking the chair out from underneath him as he stands.

“I know you don’t want anything to do with me,” Robert says, putting his hands up in defense.  “And after today, I promise, I’m out of your life.  But right now you’re going to listen.”

“Get out,”  Aaron growls, rounding the table.  He grabs the front of Robert’s shirt roughly, ready to toss him out the door he’d just walked in.

“You see her, don’t you?”

The words freeze him.  Aaron blinks several times, swallowing hard before his fingers unclench, and he looks up at Robert, his eyes slow and cautious.

“When you’re falling asleep at night?  First thing in the morning?  You see her lying there on the floor, all broken and still... and you think, if only I can fall asleep then maybe, maybe tomorrow it won’t be so bad.  But it’s not any better, is it?  If anything it’s worse because it’s still there.  I’m right aren’t I?”

Aaron curls back on himself, settling his hips against the edge of the desk.  All his annoyance seems to evaporate as he picks a point at the floor to stare at, arms crossed, the inside of his lip caught in his teeth.  

“Because I see her too,”  Robert states, feeling a rush of relief flood him as he does.  “Only, I just don’t see her lying there, I see her falling, crashing through that floor.  I hear the sound of her body landing, all that shattering glass…”

He leaves out _how we fought up until the last second, how I pushed her…_ Because even Robert can’t bring himself to admit to those truths, even in his darkest of moments he finds a way to deny those actions.  

Besides, he won’t burden Aaron with them now when he hisses, “Stop it.”

Robert dares to join him on the desk, sitting close enough so his words can be spoken softly.

“Look, I’m not going to give you some stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on bull shit speech because if I could be coming apart at the seams, I would be too." Aaron glances at him briefly as if to check his sincerity.  "So if you’re hell bent on punishing yourself, at least be smart about it.  Eat an energy bar, drink a fucking gatorade.  Take a day off every now and then so people stop worrying about you so much.  Because I can’t…”  

“Can’t what?”  Aaron says when Robert’s voice falters.  

Their eyes meet and for the first time that day, Aaron doesn’t shy away from Robert’s gaze.

“I can’t have your life on my hands, too,”  He says intently, holding Aaron’s eyes with every bit of tenderness he’s ever felt for the man, realizing in that moment just how very much that has grown to be.  “Not even I could fake my way through that sort of grief.”

As Aaron’s eyes swell, in that easy, heartbreaking way they do, Robert wonders what would happen if he leaned over and kissed him.  But he never gets the chance, as Adam comes bumbling through the door, horrendously unaware of what he just intruded upon.

The next day, as he and Chrissy walk towards the pub for lunch, he sees Aaron bent over the boot of a car, the artificial red of a sports drink bottle perched on the roof.

Aaron doesn’t see Robert sigh with just a bit of relief.  And neither does Chrissy.

 ****  


_Gin_

In the end, when Robert’s marriage explodes in his face, it has nothing to do with the two of them.  Nothing to do with the truth about Katie’s death coming to light.  Nothing about the staged break in.

In the end, it is Robert who leaves Chrissy for cheating with her ex-husband, Donny.  

“That sanctimonious prick,” Chas hisses, for Aaron’s ears only when the gossip finally reaches the mill that is the Woolpack.  “Serves him right, her making a cuckold out of him.”

The irony is so thick, Aaron nearly chokes on it.  After everything he put Aaron through.  After everything Robert did to protect their secret, for it to not even come to light.  It is more than Aaron can bare.

That night, his sleep is disturbed by a chirp of his phone.  

_You up?_

Well, he is now.  

Slipping down stairs and pulling a hoodie on as he goes, Aaron opens the door to find Robert slouched against the door frame.  

“Aaron,” he breathes, a guileless grin on his face.  He reeks of cigarettes and gin, the half drunk bottle still clutched in his hand.

“What do you want, Robert?”  Aaron zips up the hoodie, the early summer night still hanging onto a chill.

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now.  About Chrissy’s betrayal.”

“That’s a bit rich, isn't it?  Coming from you.  Seems like you got a nice little escape route to me.”

“What’s that mean?”  He slurs.

“Come on, Robert.  You were having an affair, with a man nonetheless, before you two were even married.  We both know what lengths you went to to keep it hidden.  And now she slips up once, just one time and you throw her out?  Maybe this was just an easy way out, hm?  A way to weasel your way out of your sham of a marriage before all your own secrets blow up in your face.”

“She was still my wife.”

“Yeah, like those marriage vows meant anything to you.  Or was that someone else copping off with me in the garage the _night_ after your wedding?”

“But I haven’t touched anyone.  Not since you,”  Robert says, staggering forward, coming into Aaron’s space which now feels electrified.

It’s been months since Aaron’s even allowed himself more than a passing glance at Robert, and now as Robert’s eyes saturate with lust, Aaron is overwhelmed by how much he’s missed being looked at like that.

“Not even your wife?”  Aaron whispers.  

“Not the same.  Just doing my duty.  Going through the motions.”  Robert grasps the front of Aaron’s shirt lightly, pulling them the rest of the way together.  He nuzzles his nose under Aaron’s jaw, inhaling deeply.  “I’ve been such a good boy, for such a long time.”  

He catches Aaron’s jaw in his warm palm and his lips in a hasty kiss.   For a breath-stealing moment, Aaron grants himself the reward of this kiss.  After all, he has been such a good boy too.

But all too soon, his better judgement and self respect take over.

“Don’t,” he huffs, pushing roughly at Robert’s chest.

A soberness comes over Robert’s features as he sees the line he’s crossed.  “Please,” he says, his voice thick with threatening tears.  “With her gone, I’ve got no one left.”

Aaron steels himself.   “And I’ll not be your last resort.”  

His words hit Robert like a smack, making him step back, stunned.  

Before going inside, Aaron takes the bottle from Robert’s hand.  It slips from his fingers, easily, both knowing he’s had enough.

_ Americano _

Robert leaves Emmerdale after that.  He doesn’t tell anyone, not even Victoria, where he’s gone off to so Aaron is a bit surprised when he’s gets another text message a few days after his departure.  

_I’m sorry about the other night.  Maybe someday I can make it up to you._

Aaron doesn’t write back.  

A few weeks later, Aaron catches word that Robert is back in town to file for the divorce and because Emmerdale is just too damn small, he of course ends up running into him on his morning coffee run.

The cafe is full, so it is the sudden hush that falls over the crowd that encourages Aaron to look over his shoulder.

Robert freezes when he sees him waiting at the counter.  He clears his throat and smooths his tie down the front of his shirt before continuing up to place his order.

“Alright?”  He asks with a small nod.  

“Yeah, fine.”  Aaron says, stunned a bit breathless.  “You?

“Been better, ta.”  He finishes the statement with a sarcastic grin.  Clearly he’s on edge being back in the village.  His jaw is clenched painfully, eyes alternating between glaring straight ahead and flitting nervously over his shoulder.

Aaron wishes Bob would hurry up with his drink order.  

“Are they all still staring?”  He says, lowly.

Aaron surveys the crowd, noting that each and everyone of them is.  He gives them all a repugnant snear.

“Sod them,”  He says.  “Bob, add an americano to my order.”

“You don’t have to - “ Robert begins, but Aaron silences him with a look.

“You’re alright, mate.”

And if their fingers brush as Aaron hands Robert his drink, the unsubtle press of skin to skin that flares two beating hearts in their chests, the unmistakable acknowledgement of I’ve missed you and I’ve missed you too, neither man lets on.

“Thanks for this,” Robert says.

Aaron stuffs his free hand in the pocket of his coveralls. “Maybe someday you can make it up to me.”

He turns, leaving Robert with a warm look of understanding erasing all the tension from his face.

_Scotch_

Aaron pulls his beanie hat lower around his ears and gives his hands a quick rub.   He makes a mental note to get a space heater for the cabin at the scrap yard.  If he doesn’t, Holy Scrap will be done for by the time spring comes because both the owners will have turned to icicles.

Someone knocks at the door but before he can give an answer, the door opens and Robert comes in.

"Got some good news," he says without preamble as if they still had some sort of relationship, of any kind, with each other.  As if they had just spoken recently instead of sharing no more than a handful of awkward greetings or a few strained pleasantries when their paths had crossed over the past few months.  As if they haven’t been as trying to figure out exactly what happens next or if anything even can.

After the divorce, Robert had been left with nothing but his wry business sense, his infectious smile and a flat in Hotton that he started renting.  It was a small but nicely sorted place over a posh bakery and only a few blocks from the tech startup he started heading up the sales and marketing department for.   

He may not be estate manager at Home Farm anymore, but his own money looks better on him than Chrissy’s ever had.

Aaron clears his throat, pulling his eyes away from Robert’s trim fitting leather coat.  

"Oh?  What’s that?"  He asks.  

"Got my first return on my investment today.  Holy Scrap is officially profitable."

"Been working my arse off for nearly a year and now we're finally making you money?  Great."  Aaron pulls a face,  shuffling some papers on the desk so he doesn't have to look at Robert's bright, proud smile.

"It can take ages for a business to turn a profit and you’ve managed to do that in less than a year.  It means you two have done well for yourself.  Just like I always knew you would,"  He adds, with a soft smile.

Aaron can’t help but return the gesture, remembering another cold December day when Robert had bolstered his confidence in his new business venture along his burgeoning feelings.  

That day seems like a lifetime ago yet here they are.  Still being pulled together by that inescapable attraction that had coerced Robert into betraying his marriage vows and Aaron into falling madly in love where he knew he shouldn’t.  

Robert is single now, their affair seemingly old news and still secret, buried along with all vestiges of Robert’s old life.  The rules have changed but the game they play is still the same.  Yet now, with so many less players on the field, a win could be all the greater.

“I ah, brought this.”  Robert puts a bottle of Scotch on the table looking a bit nervous.  Perhaps he had been thinking about all that could be gained too.  “I know you’re not much of a scotch drinker, but I thought we could celebrate.”

Aaron picks up the bottle, examining the label. He doesn’t recognize the name, but it has been aged for nearly as many years as Aaron has been alive, so he’s sure it’s the good stuff.

“It’ll do,”  He says, handing the bottle back as he looks for a few coffee mugs that aren’t dirty.

“Too bad Adam isn’t here to join us.  Will he back anytime soon?”  Robert asks nonchalantly.  With his back still turned Aaron smiles to himself as he sees right through his feeble attempt.  

He sobers his expression as he turns back, offering Robert two cups.

“No. Should be out all day on supply run.”

Robert cracks the seal on the bottle along with a wicked grin.

“Good.”

From that day on and for the rest of his life, Aaron will never drink Scotch again without imagining its peaty flavor playing off the silken twist of Robert Sugden’s tongue.

_Tea_

Toast.  Blackberry jam.  A strong morning brew.  The Sunday paper.  The fearless February sun pouring warm through the windows behind him.  And Robert still in his dressing gown, the lush terry cloth tied loose enough around his waist that Aaron gets a glimpse of his chest everytime he bends over his cereal bowl.

It’s the happiest Aaron has been in ages.  

First there had been the day at the scrap yard.  The congratulations, then the scotch, then a toe-curling kiss, but nothing more.

Then it was meeting up for coffee.

Then it was a night out for drinks in town.

Then a footie match followed by a curry and a pint.

But it took Robert inviting him over for dinner at his place for Aaron to realize they were dating.  

“More tea?”  Aaron asks, as he clears his dishes.

Robert tips his cup to check it’s contents.  “Thanks.”

As Aaron busies himself with the kettle he glances back at Robert for a moment, giving him a small but sweet smile.  

Being with Robert here - out from under Chas’s watchful eye, far enough away from Emmerdale that all the guilt and trauma from the past year can seem gone even if never forgotten - is easier than it has any right to be.  His guilt in Katie’s passing may never truly leave him, but with Robert owning up to his part in her death - a revelation that had nearly ended them before they had truly begun - Aaron’s guilt is mollified enough that he can look himself in the mirror again without feeling shame.  He can breathe easier.  He can laugh when his lover slides up behind him, hands to his waist, tea mug slammed down on the counter in mock impatience.

Robert’s body is warm and inviting and Aaron’s leans back into the comfort of it, his head falling back, leaving his neck exposed for a line of kisses.

“I meant what I said last night,” Robert says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.  Those hands at Aaron’s waist urge him to turn so they are face to face.  Aaron’s hips settle against the counter; Robert’s weight settles against him.

“It wasn’t some post coital verbal gaffe,” He levels his eyes on Aaron.  “I love you.”

Almost as if by reflex, Aaron’s eyes roll, his lips press together and roll into his mouth.  Even now, even when he knows the strength of what he feels and what is shown him in return, hearing the words themselves makes him feel uneasy.  

“You don’t believe me,”   Robert says, taking a step back.  
  
“No, of course I do.”

“Then you don’t love me.”

“Robert,” Aaron warns, exasperated.  He plays with the collar of Robert’s robe, fingering the fabric gently then adds,  “Don’t be daft.”  

Robert tries to repress his smile but his eyes twinkle brightly.  “Then what?”

“I don’t know.  All this.” He gestures at the room, sweeping his arms wide before crossing them over his chest.  “Us.  I just never thought I’d hear you say it.”

“Wasn’t sure I ever would,” Robert says, sliding his way back into Aaron’s space.  “But now that I have, I can’t imagine ever not.”

His face is so desperately plain, his words so very sincere.  So incredibly sappy.  And they both come to that realization at the same moment.

“Yeah, alright Don Juan,” Aaron says with a snicker, turning away from Robert’s silly grin to place two tea bags into the waiting mugs.  “I’ll bring you your tea.”

 

*

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